


Time Enough for Counting

by spacehopper



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Desk Sex, Frenemies with Benefits, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, M/M, Power Dynamics, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:53:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22748884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehopper/pseuds/spacehopper
Summary: Peter loses the world, wins a bet, and reaps his just rewards. Gertrude Robinson might've fucked him over. But at least fucking Elias still brings some small measure of satisfaction.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 9
Kudos: 199
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Time Enough for Counting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [forsyte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/forsyte/gifts).



The Archives were empty, and Peter was rather perturbed. Normally, emptiness was something he aspired to, the sweet serenity that was the absence of other people. He trailed his fingers across a nearly barren desk, lifting the solitary cup to sniff at the dregs of tea. All signs of an irritation, a violation, entirely removed from his presence. 

The problem was, Peter hadn’t removed her.

He took a deep breath, and wished he were at sea. Too much time by far had been spent in the stuffy London office he’d rented. Dealing with paperwork, dealing with people, who all wanted something from him. It was enough to make his quiescent rage bubble up again. Enough to drive him up the stairs, to a very much occupied office. 

For once, he had his own complaint to give to management.

When he entered the room, Elias didn’t look up. With most people, this was expected, even desired. After all, why would anyone be aware an absence had entered the room? 

But Elias was different. Here in his place of power, there was no doubt Elias could see him, the itch of his gaze biting at the back of Peter’s neck. Which meant Elias was ignoring him.

So Peter waited. Wandered around Elias’s office. Rearranged his books, and pocketed the paperweight resting on the edge of his desk. Rifled through a small stack of papers, then dumped them in the bin. Still, Elias didn’t look up, even as his gaze grew heavier on Peter’s neck, practically choking in its intensity. Until Peter knew he’d have to force the issue himself, or leave. 

Another minute passed as he paced back and forth, reaching the door before turning on his heel, the grating scratch of Elias’s pen cutting through the silence. He turned to the door again, put his hand on the knob. Opened it. Closed it. Spun around, and gritted his teeth, to finally force out the words.

“Your Archivist—”

“Is away,” Elias said, replying to the question he’d known before Peter even had the chance to voice it. He didn’t smile when he looked up, but Peter had known him long enough to recognize that look in his eyes. The smug triumph of a petty win, as he folded his hands on his desk. “So you’ve decided to threaten me, then? Are you sure that’s wise?”

“Really, Elias? Wise? Are you sure having that—” He gritted his teeth, trying to pull Forsaken closer, to deaden the sharp pain of Elias’s stare. “—that woman in your basement is wise? What’s going to stop her from killing you, one day?”

“Oh, nothing,” Elias said, sounding far too unconcerned about the backstabbing saboteur he’d decided to keep in his employ. “I expect she’ll get around to it eventually. A pity. She’s ruthlessly efficient.”

“Efficient.” Peter snorted. “Yes, that is your type, isn’t it. And you’ll just see it coming?”

“Quite.” 

And then he picked up his pen, and began to write again. 

Peter almost sputtered at the nerve of it. Not that it was hard to ignore Peter, to dismiss and overlook him. It was a quality he cultivated, after all. But there were rules and traditions. Alliances that dated to long before Peter was born. Ones he’d thought Elias would honor. He hadn’t expected aid. Just that, as usual, Elias would leave him alone. But it wasn’t Elias, was it? That was certainly what he’d say. Watching, that was his role, and I’m sure you understand. Peter’s lips thinned, and he reached out to snatch the paper out from under Elias’s hands. 

“Someday, that arrogance is going to get the better of you,” Peter said, tossing the paper aside. And feeling a pleasant fizz of satisfaction at the flash of genuine annoyance in Elias’s eyes. 

“Perhaps.” Elias’s voice remained level as he got to his feet, coming around the desk to stand far too close to Peter, even as Peter backed away. “But not today, I think.” 

Peter didn’t speak as his back hit the bookshelf, sending one of the volumes to the floor with a muffled thud. With anyone else, anywhere else, the Lonely he’d dragged around himself would be enough to keep him safe, to preserve his solitude. To leave him to mull over his anger in peace. 

“Peter,” Elias said, running his knuckles over Peter’s cheek, so light he could barely feel it. At least not compared to the weight of those awful, staring eyes.

“Don’t do that,” he snapped, hating how panicky he sounded. How breathless, for reasons he wished he could hide.

“Why not?” A warm hand wormed its way under his shirt, drenching his skin in its unwelcome heat. “You like it, don’t you.” The words whispered into Peter’s ear, deafening in the silence. “Very perverse, in its way.” 

“What exactly do you get out of this?” Peter said, biting off a choked moan as Elias nipped at his ear.

Peter felt Elias’s smile on his skin, the hand on his stomach slipping down to cup his already hard cock. 

“A good fuck.” Elias laughed as Peter shuddered involuntarily. “Ah, you like it when I’m vulgar.”

“Stop it.” He hated how pathetic he sounded. How easily Elias had gotten under his skin. It’d been a mistake, coming here. Had his mother warned him about this? Maybe once. It seemed like the sort of thing she might’ve said, if he could remember anything she’d said. “Stop reading my mind.” 

Again, Elias laughed. Not cruelly. Peter might even call it fond, and he shuddered in disgust and desire at the thought.

“Why would I? You like that as well.” His nimble fingers worked open the fly of Peter’s trousers. “Here, in the safety of your secluded bower. Where no one can touch you but me.” 

Confrontation. Oh, how he hated it. But he’d brought this on himself, hadn’t he? He could’ve gone to sea, could’ve simply sent Elias a letter. But he’d wanted Elias to know, wanted Elias to act. And as much as he hated it, that required initiative. Action. A will he summoned once again to slap away Elias’s hand. 

“Not even you,” he said, stepping aside. 

Elias didn’t try to stop him, a small, amused smile on his lips as Peter backed towards the door, for the escape he knew was there. A letter, and time to think. Time away from the damn Eye, and its acolytes’ incessant meddling.

But of course Elias couldn’t leave it there. And when he cleared his throat, even knowing it was a mistake, Peter couldn’t stop himself from turning back.

“Really, Peter? I thought you would’ve grown out of this petulance by now.” He shook his head, sitting again behind his desk. “A wager, then.”

The barb was easy to ignore. After all, what did he care what Elias thought? But the wager. A chance to get something of what he lost back? Or even just a bit of satisfaction. 

“What is it?” he asked, not bothering to keep the suspicion out of his voice. 

“Oh, nothing much. Just a small game of hide and seek.”

* * *

At sea, the sky was empty, and Peter was blessedly alone. 

He’d almost refused, given how insulting the wager was. Did Elias truly think he could find Peter here, in Peter’s place of power? His lonely ship, cutting its way through the empty waters, imbued with the power of countless forgotten sacrifices, lost to forsaken depths. But refusing would be its own admission of defeat, and so soon after Gertrude Robinson’s twisted scheme had thrown him to his knees, he couldn’t afford to let Elias even seem to have the upper hand.

Still, he wasn’t worried. For all his power, the Eye was limited. More than once, Peter felt the brush of an unwelcome gaze on his neck, as he stood upon the deck of his silent ship, in the midst of the wild, endless seas. But all it took was a moment’s focus, his lips tightening around his old whistle to call down the fog. And then the feeling receded, and Peter was alone again.

But as much of a balm as his solitude was, he never failed to collect on a wager. And it would be nice, wouldn’t it? To have Elias on his knees. Or however else Peter wanted him. Blindfolded, perhaps. And he knew just the thing for it. 

So when he returned to port after the alloted month had passed, he arranged for a meeting. Salesa was reliable as ever, and he’d done as Peter had asked, always happy to take the Lukas family money for whatever cursed curio Peter might desire. And though he raised an eyebrow as he handed the slim package over, he didn’t ask. Peter had always liked that about him. A man who understood when his questions weren’t welcome, and kept them to himself. 

And maybe you couldn’t teach an old dog new tricks. But today, at least, he’d get a chance to fill one nosy bastard with something besides his precious secrets. 

When Peter entered Elias’s office a few hours later, he did deign to look up, though he still seemed annoyingly composed and utterly unruffled at Peter’s abrupt appearance. 

“Ah. I was wondering when you’d come to collect.”

Peter didn’t answer, instead reaching into his jacket to pull out the blindfold. Harmless to him, and not even particularly dangerous to Elias. But it would be enough for what he wanted, and as he held it out, he felt a swell of satisfaction when Elias’s eyes widened in what seemed to be genuine surprise. 

“An interesting find. I assume it’s not meant to be a donation?”

Peter shrugged, and waved the fabric suggestively until Elias finally sighed, and took it from his hands.

Wrapped around Elias’s prying eyes, the blindfold looked rather fetching. A slick black shock of satin, so dark it seemed almost an absence marring his face, rather than any simple covering. 

“You know, it’s almost funny. Not much to see at sea, was there?” Peter said, chuckling and taking a seat on Elias desk, and shifting around to get comfortable, and making a mess of Elias’s neat stacks of paper. “Not much to see here either. Almost makes me feel at home.”

“Anything for you, Peter.” 

Elias’s tone was almost saccharine enough to cover the bitter edge of sarcasm. But it didn’t matter how mouthy he got. He couldn’t see, couldn’t pry to ask all those all-too-knowing questions. And the mouth would be dealt with soon enough.

“That’s the spirit,” Peter said, with a chipperness he was truly starting feel. “Now, if you’d be so kind as to undress?”

This time, Elias only inclined his head, a sign of obedience to Peter’s unspoken wish for silence that he rather appreciated. And his clothing removal was just as efficient as Peter would’ve expected, each item folded and set aside with fastidious precision, until the only thing left was the blindfold covering his eyes. 

“Anything else?” Elias asked, spreading his arms. 

“Hmm.” Peter eyes skated over his naked body, lips twitching as he reached Elias’s groin. “Already getting hard from just that? But I suppose it makes sense. Always the watcher, never the watched. Must be quite exciting.” 

Elias simply shrugged, his continued obedience sending a surge of heat to Peter’s own cock. He freed it as he sprung off the desk, leaving his clothing otherwise in place. No need to get too comfortable, after all. And he did like to be able to make a quick exit. 

“Turn around,” he told Elias, as he pulled a length of rope from his jacket pocket. 

He grabbed Elias’s wrists, binding them tightly behind his back, forcing his shoulders to an almost certainly painful extreme. Through it all, Elias never resisted, beyond the automatic twitch of his muscles in response to the pain. 

Then he took a step back to admire his work, nodding in satisfaction and grabbing a handful of Elias’s hair to drag him towards the desk. All Elias did was grunt in pain and stumble forward, torso bent and teeth gritted as Peter held him while he sat back on the desk. 

“You know, we should make wagers like this more often.” He tugged Elias’s head into place over his now hard cock. With no hands for support and the awkward angle, better to have the best guidance possible. He grabbed another fistful of hair with his other hand, and lined Elias up with his cock. “I almost like you like this, out of that perfectly pressed suit.” 

Before Elias could even thinking about responding, Peter pulled his head forward those last few inches, and his mouth onto Peter’s waiting cock. 

“Ahh,” he said, as he forced himself deeper. To Elias’s credit, he barely stuttered at the intrusion, tensing for only a moment until he forced himself to relax, accepting Peter’s cock deep into his throat. “I always love this part. But I guess with a couple centuries behind you, you’d have to have a quite a bit of experience.” He slowly moved Elias’s head back, until only the tip rested between his lips, then shoved his cock back in, savoring the the way Elias couldn’t quite suppress the noise of pain. “Or is this the sort of knowledge you can pick up secondhand? That would be more your style, wouldn’t it.” Elias groaned around his cock, eliciting a shiver of delight from Peter as he began to set a rhythm. “Stealing the knowledge from someone else. Watching. Really, you Beholding sorts are rather kinky, aren’t you? Good thing I’m giving you a chance to put those skills to use.”

Elias didn’t respond, of course. And wasn’t that a delight all its own. No prying eyes, no irritating questions. Only the slick heat of his mouth, the press of his lips, guided by Peter’s grip on his hair. Almost like he wasn’t here at all, just a hot mouth, to feed Peter’s desires, and nothing else. 

Leaning back, he sighed in contentment, letting his eyes slip shut, and setting an almost lazy pace. After all, why rush? 

And then the phone rang.

His eyes sprung open, and he glared at the offending object as it dared to ring again. Then glared at Elias, who almost certainly had something to do with the damned thing penetrating the veil he’d pulled down. After the fifth ring, it stopped for a moment, only to start again, an infernal reminder of other people and their constant demands. 

He yanked Elias off his cock, leaving him gasping and leaning on the desk as his boots hit the floor with a thud. Then he yanked Elias against his chest, forcing him up against the desk, cock bobbing above the papers still littering the surface and glistening with precome.

Now there was an idea. Peter reached for the phone, not nothing to say anything as he shoved it between Elias’s shoulder and his head, forcing Elias to hold it there while Peter reached for Elias’s cock. He ground against Elias and ran a rough hand over his cock, enjoying the hitch in Elias’s voice as he finally managed to voice a greeting into the phone. 

“Elias Bouchard. How may I help you?”

The rest of it, Peter ignored. Something about donors, scheduling a banquet. The content didn’t matter. What did matter was Elias’s struggle to keep his composure as Peter set a brutal pace, dragging the foreskin, fondling the slit, letting the precome slick his hand as he ran his palm along the length. Tightening his grip just this side of pleasurable, and feeling the way Elias’s fingers worked against Peter’s stomach, the way he trembled at each stroke. 

Whoever had called was proving rather long winded, but Peter found he was no longer as annoyed as he’d been. From the way Elias’s voice had gone slightly breathless, his hands tightening into fists, he was close. Would he be able to suppress it, if he came while still on the call? Peter found himself desperately curious. Not quite his normal state, but he’d blame it on the location, and then man coming apart under his hands. 

“Yes, of course I’ll be in personal attendance. I understand the Fairchilds are one of our most reliable donors, and you know I’d never slight you.” 

Peter nearly laughed. Who else could it be, but Simon, to take so very long? He’d have to send the old man some sort of thank you. Maybe he’d offer him a bit of fun on his ship. Simon was rather fond of the sea, after all. And his company wasn’t so bad, as company went. 

But that was a matter for another time. His fingers slipped lower, brushing Elias’s balls, feeling the way he tightened. Another stroke, and this time he did laugh, delighted at the spray of come all over Elias’s precious scheduling, his budgets, whatever other remnants of bureaucracy littered his desk, leaving all his meticulous work a smeared and sopping mess. 

And equally delightful was the small gasp that left Elias’s mouth, and the assurance he’d simply spilled his tea, really Simon, nothing of concern, and the details would be send to him shortly. An excuse Peter doubted Simon believed, but then they all liked to play their parts. 

As Elias softened in his grip, he gave him one last cruel tug before shoving the entire mess of papers onto the floor, and plopping back onto the desk.

“Was that really necessary?” Elias said, a spark of true irritation as Peter yanked him back into place over his cock.

“No. But neither was ruining my ritual.” 

Before Elias could make a pointless protest about how it wasn’t him, as if he hadn’t provided Gertrude all the resources needed to ruin him, Peter forced his cock back between those wet and waiting lips. The pace he set now had none of the leisure from before, pulling Elias up and down, forcing his cock deeper and deeper each time. Were Elias anything close to human, he’d almost be worried about hurting him. Then again, he couldn’t imagine bothering with the hassle of fucking someone so frail. 

As it was, he was almost managing to slide back into the peace from before. Pulling the heavy fog of Forsaken back around him, letting Elias fade away, except where Peter held him by his hair, and around his cock. Drowning himself in the sensation of taking what he wanted, only for himself, and letting Elias lapse into irrelevance beyond what he could give. 

It was the last thought that nearly sent him over the edge, along with a particularly cruel yank, and another deep moan from Elias shuddering through his skin. But he held it back, pulling out to force Elias to his knees, standing in front of him to regard what he’d won. Naked, bound and blindfolded, and cock already hard and flushed again between his legs.

“Surprising stamina, given your age,” Peter remarked, as he fisted his own cock in his hand. Waiting for the right moment, for Elias to part those infuriating lips, tongue darting out for some biting retort, only to catch a spurt of semen as Peter came on his face.

Quite the sight he made. Perhaps it’d please his voyeuristic god. But that was Elias’s concern, and whatever poor sod found him. Ideally, his Archivist. She didn’t seem like the sympathetic sort, and if he could annoy her as well, then he’d consider that another small win. 

But for now, Peter sighed with contentment at the mess he’d made, of the office and the man. He might yet be able to count himself a winner. After all, what was one failure, in the face of a promised eternity? Feeling far more cheerful than when he’d arrived, he tucked himself away, and strode into the hall, whistling a merry tune no one could hear but him.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from The Gambler by Kenny Rogers.


End file.
